Silence
by Bulldust
Summary: An older male, used to a daily routine of snarling, snapping, and ruling over his pack, is left to deal with the deafening silence.


He had every intention of killing him.

Heavy feet pounded through the snow as he charged after the dark wolf, yellowed teeth bared. The heavy male moved with surprising speed when he caught up to his quarry, already on his tail in a matter of seconds. Beige jaws opened wide and sank into the smaller wolf's hindquarters, pulling him back and cutting his escape short.

The larger wolf tackled the treacherous male into the frozen ground and bit everywhere he could. The darker wolf screamed and cried while being thrashed about, trying desperately to worm his way out of his Alpha's grasp. As he tried to scramble to his feet, a light muzzle grabbed him by the ear and reeled him back under his heavier weight.

They were ruining his ambition, and they were going to pay in blood. He felt his victim thrash under him, trying to push him off with his legs and teeth, but he bit down harder. All the large male could see was red on the once dark fur, and he whipped his head violently about intending to rip his subordinate's ear clean off.

The beige male was so blinded by rage that he failed to sense the blur in his peripheral until a jarring pain raked his right eye. The shock of the blow sent the male back just enough for the smaller wolf to pull himself out of his grasp. The Alpha gave a roar of pain and screwed his eyes shut, shaking the blood and tears from his wounded eye. After a moment, he opened his left eye and saw two wolves running in the distance. Another wave of rage came over him and he gave a loud bellow, "Treacherous deserters!" he roared, pacing forward, "You would abandon your own kin!"

"Fearghus, let them go," a quiet voice approached from his left. He turned his bloodied head to see a black she wolf walking up beside him, "They're gone. There is nothing we can do now."

His single open eye was burning with fury as he swept his gaze over the land once more, "They knew we were expecting Saba, yet they still chose to abandon their pack in time of need. Their future kin in time of need!"

Saba's voice was calm as she settled into a sitting position, quite difficult with her larger belly, "I doubt they will make it far; breeding season has already passed, and it would be rare for a pack to let them both in. They can help us with the brood once they return."

"They aren't coming back." The beige wolf's tone was full of malice as he spoke. "They will be considered outsiders to this territory, and killed on sight."

"You don't mean that." He turned to look Saba in the eye, and almost froze when he saw those dark eyes filled with maternal aggression.

His falter only lasted a moment before he donned a mask of cold indifference. "They've made their choice loud and clear, even going so far as to leave _this_." He turned his bloodied eye to his mate, then to the rest of the pack as he called, "Anyone who goes against the family will die."

The pack softly murmured to one another when the Alpha male turned away. As much as he would like to get help with cleaning his wounds, his mate was angered with him, and his daughter deserted them. It didn't matter now. He wanted to be alone, away from the pack and the remnants of violence.

He travelled across the open landscape and had his sights on a distant hilltop. As he climbed the ravine, his legs dragged in the snow as he hauled his heavier set body to the summit. A part of him idly thought that he should manage his weight, but the extra bulk gave him a sense of dignity. A heavier Alpha meant a prosperous pack in the eyes of enemies. No, his exhaustion was not a physical burden, but a spiritual one.

As he settled at the top of the hill, he began to nurse his wounds. He was covered in light scuffs and cuts, but otherwise unharmed, save for his eye. It would most likely heal without blindness, but he still felt rage boil in his stomach once more. Of all his children to abandon his pack, it was Malei. Out of all his litters, she was the one who had true potential, and could be his successor. He raised her to become a great leader to one day lead the family, and for her to abandon them was a slap to the face.

He glared down at his territory, at his pack in the distance. His treasonous brood would only set a bad example for his pack. If one goes, another will follow, and more, and more, and soon his years of work and time would be to waste. As much as it would pain him and the pack, Malei and Stom could not be allowed back. He had to set an example for his pack and future brood, to betray the pack would be a death sentence.

His ears flicked to the soft flutter of wings and his head swung upwards towards the sky. In the light of sunset a flock of song birds flew overhead, away from whatever disturbance lay behind him. A second later, a loud noise rang behind him and he felt something stab straight through his left shoulder. The impact and explosion of pain sent the beige male onto the ground, sliding down behind the hill by a few feet.

For a few moments, all he could process was pain.

And then, nothing.

He almost wished he didn't wake up. It was the dead of night when he opened his uninjured eye. Lying with his legs spread, the cold had seeped into his body where the blood froze. His ruined shoulder was a mess to behold, the flesh torn and as cold as ice. He almost cried out when he ripped his shoulder from the packed snow, leaving blood and clumps of fur behind.

It took him a few moments to sit up, a pained whine leaving his throat when he dragged himself onto his feet. His body shook with the cold and shock, his breath fogging in the night air as he tried to regain his sense of balance.

His hoarse breathing filled his ears, and it took him a few minutes to realize it was the only sound he could hear. Climbing onto unsteady feet, he painstakingly crawled to the hilltop where he had slid, nearly falling in the crimson snow. He was panting heavily when he reached the summit, then promptly lost his breath altogether.

Never before had his territory looked so desolate as it did now. His home, once brimming with life and energy, was now a shallow husk of what it used to be. Where distant herds used to walk were now barren, and there was no bird or coyote song.

The beige wolf stood there in silence, taking the dark land in, before eliciting a lone, quiet howl. He listened, but no reply came. He gave another, firmer call, and was met with silence. He felt the icy grip of fear grip his gut, almost drowning out the throbbing ache in his shoulder. He kept up his monologue from the summit, his voice sweeping the territory. Soon, his howls shrivelled down to soft murmerings.

Nothing.

So much nothing.

Without any other option, Fearghus started the long, bitter trek back into his territory. The pain was almost unbearable, causing his knees to occasionally buckle. He truly believed his wounds had frozen solid, and took every opportunity it could to rip open with every step. He was reduced to a hunch, half dragging his foreleg as he crossed the border, and it was then that he realized that it wasn't only _his _blood that caked his nose.

His homeland reeked of death, and it grew stronger the father he travelled onward. He couldn't tell if the frozen landscape was covered in streaks of crimson, or haunting shadows. He thought he stumbled across a body at one point, but he didn't stop to check. He had to get back to the den. Back to _her _den. He had to make sure they were alright.

Hours passed as the wounded male heaved himself up the rocky slope towards where he knew her den was. It was the same den she used for four years, deeply ingrained in his memories. He let his feet retrace the familiar steps back home, while he tried to distract himself from the cool dampness of his refreezing side.

When he reached the top, he found that their home was horribly, and unmistakably, silent. He didn't call out, didn't so much as growl. Carefully, as quiet as the coming dawn, he dragged himself to the burrow's entrance.

Nothing.

Saba- They weren't here.

He crumpled to the ground, letting the new sun cast light inside the den, turning the blood inside into a burning flame. For a long, long time, Fearghus was quiet. When the pain subsided into a dull ache, and he was too tired to focus, the fallen Alpha gave a whisper of a cry.

Author's Note: Takes place right after "A Quiet Exit." Was it karma, or fate? Neither, its all random variables. If Stom and Malei stayed, they'd be dead with the rest of the pack. Still sucks for Snuffles though. All characters belong to me.

If you want to have a better expierence reading and get to know more about the lore of my characters, visit my amino profile here: /c/wolfquest/page/user/bulldust-is-busy/JJBm_EXI0fV7pM6J5dJ8mmDxL8BerXB6dWHm


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